Within Your Reach
by Never-Clip-My-Wings-x
Summary: For the past seventeen years, she'd regretted her decision. Every day, she'd wondered "what if?". And as she read that poem, she knew that leaving was the biggest mistake she could possibly have made.
1. Chapter 1

She didn't know how long she'd sat in her car sobbing. All she knew was that when her sobs subsided, her eyes were red and sore, her throat dry and her skin tight. She was still clutching the poem in her shaking hands, her short nails digging into the paper where Eve had doodled in the margin of the small sheet, the black ink running from Nikki's salty tears running off her face and onto her daughter's slightly messy handwriting. The lines of words were a little wonky on the plain paper; wonky like the girl herself, maybe - a dreadful simile for an English teacher to be using, but it seemed to work for Eve.

She should probably have known that Eve would turn up one day. Perhaps she'd even wanted her to - there hadn't been a day since she'd left that she hadn't thought about Eve and Stuart; the life she'd stupidly thrown away as a young, confused woman. She'd told herself every day that she hadn't loved him; that she wasn't even interested in men, and that she'd just married him because she didn't know what she was doing. But she knew in her heart that she wasn't gay - even when she was with Lorraine, she'd known full well that she wasn't. She just wanted to give herself a reason for leaving, and so she'd gone for telling herself that she couldn't have even been in love with her husband, never mind lived the lie of a perfect family life. But she knew that she should have at least tried.

It was drizzling with rain outside in Greenock now; the sky an ominous dark grey threatening a storm as the faint sun fell out of the sky, taking any warmth there had been in the Scottish town with it. She was curled up in the driver's seat of her car, her jacket wrapped around her body as she stared out of the window and let her tears dry on her face. She couldn't do this any more - she couldn't keep up the pretence that she had no emotions. Couldn't go back to an empty house. Couldn't sleep on her own every night, telling herself that it was what she wanted as she tossed and turned.

And so, with quaking hands, she folded the sheet of paper as best she could, and placed the poem in the pocket of her jacket as if she was trying to keep a part of her daughter close to her, and picked up her keys from her slender, jean-clad legs, starting her car and sitting still, just for a second, like she was gathering her thoughts as she stared at the sky. The truth was that she only had one thought running through her head now - the address that she'd not seen for seventeen years. The one that held every happy memory she thought she'd ever had. The little house in Hyde that she'd bought with Stuart with all their savings so many years ago was the only place she wanted to be, with the man she'd been in love with all this time, but had never been able to understand. She had to tell him.

It was hours later, and the street was dark as she sat on the wall she remembered playing on as a kid, when she lived on the shitty council estate which had been a couple of hundred yards from here. It had been demolished now; the rows of terraced houses thousands of people had called home, and replaced with one of those middle class estates you saw advertised - that saddened her. When working class people were thrown from house to house by the Government on the pretence of improving the country, when all they were doing was papering over the cracks and hoping that nobody noticed. She hated that.

The storm she'd predicted had arrived, and she'd parked round the corner from her former home, intending to walk to the front door, but she'd bottled it and ended up sitting here, soaked to the skin; her mascara smudged across her face from both the tears and the rain, her hair plastered to her head, and her clothes dripping with the rainwater that had completely and utterly saturated the fabric. She couldn't quite muster the courage to walk the few steps to the house and knock on the white front door - yes, when she was in the army, she'd led raids on weaponries and bomb sites, but the thought of knocking on her husband's front door put the fear of God into her.

"Are you alright, love?" came a voice from behind her. She'd forgotten that she was sitting on the wall of someone's front garden, and she would have jumped, perhaps, if she wasn't so numb from a combination of the rain and the events of the day. The voice was a woman's; she was probably about the same age as Nikki herself, but she probably thought that the woman sat on the wall was younger - her long limbs always gave the impression that she was young and slightly disproportioned, like a foal or some other young animal. Stuart had nicknamed her "Bambi" because of the way she tended to fall over her own limbs, particularly in the morning when she went downstairs to make them tea or coffee, wearing one of his shirts with her underwear. It was odd how she missed the little things like that.

"Yeah. Sorry. Just... waiting for someone." She smiled, turning slightly to see the woman. She'd been right - the figure at the door was a blonde thirty-something with a couple of young children swarming at her feet, every inch the picture of a perfect family. The woman didn't look exactly convinced, but smiled slightly, her pretty eyes pitiful as she closed the door slowly, keeping the warmth in her house and somehow making Nikki feel even colder. Not that she could feel the cold - she was far too detached to be able to physically feel anything. If she wasn't, she'd have done something about her position by now.

Slowly, Nikki stood up, staring down the road as the wind howled into her face, taking with it the copper leaves blown off the trees on the sides of the street. She'd spent the happiest years of her life in this area, before she'd thrown it all away. She pulled her black coat around her body as she walked towards the house, the tears blending with the cold rain battering against her as she crossed the dark road, treading in an ever-expanding puddle before she climbed the slight slope of the drive, coming to a stop just in front of the door. She didn't know that she had the balls to do this - to knock on that door, to her, was akin to walking through a minefield. More terrifying, even.

The house was precisely how she remembered it in every little detail - the three bedroomed semi had been luxury compared to the council houses they'd grown up in, and it had been novel, when they were first married, for one of them to not have to hide under the duvet in the morning when the other's parents came into the bedroom. Nikki wondered, for a moment, if Eve had a boyfriend - she was a beautiful young woman; more beautiful than she could ever have imagined her daughter being, and she'd never have recognised her if she'd passed her on the street. Christine had been right - she was just a stranger, and it was up to Nikki to put that right. She just wasn't sure she could bring herself to.

And so she stood there, in front of her former home, where her husband and daughter were probably doing something as normal and domestic as watching television or eating their tea, while she was stood with tears streaming down her pale skin and her hair and clothes drenched by rainwater. She lost track of time, but she watched lights be turned on and off for however long, trying to silence her sobs as the minutes passed, until eventually, the only light on was that of the hall, and she heard footsteps approach the door from the inside. She wondered if they still had the same floor - the linoleum that she'd nearly broken her neck on pretty much every day for years, but never got round to replacing. She was sat on the cold brick drive now, leaning against the wall of the garage as water cascaded from the roof onto her. She didn't care any more - she could die out here, and she wouldn't care, she thought, closing her eyes and bringing her long legs up to her chest, hugging her knees like a small child.

"Nikki?"

_I'm sorry it's been so long since I've updated anything, but I've moved schools, started 5 AS Levels and a new job. I have two weeks off now, but please don't expect miraculous amounts of writing because it's not going to materialise - I'm sorry! I hope you've enjoyed this, and I've already written Chapter 2, so hopefully that'll be up this week, and perhaps, if I get round to it, a couple of updates on other fics._


	2. Chapter 2

"Nikki?"

She felt warm hands on her shoulders, and her eyes shot open, her vision blurred by rainwater in her cornflower eyes mingling with the tears. She could see the light from the hallway; the front door was open and it was Stuart crouched in front of her, one hand at the back of her elegant neck as he gently tilted her head up to look at him properly. His fingers felt like they were scalding her cold skin as he stroked her cheek with his thumb, looking into her eyes and saying something she couldn't quite make out.

He took her bony hands in his, pulling her up with strength she'd forgotten he possessed. She clung to him like Eve had clung to her fingers as a baby, gasping for breath as he held her body up and pulled her with him towards the door. She staggered after him, choking on air as he brought her up the step into the hallway as she imagined he'd have done for Eve when she was a little girl. He would have been the best father anyone could have wished to have, Nikki thought, and she was glad that her face was covered in rainwater at that point, because it disguised the tears leaking from her eyes.

"Shit, Nikki, how long have you been out there?" he asked, kicking the door shut with his sock-clad foot and grasping his wife's slim arms to hold her upright as he spoke. She stared at him blankly, her eyes wide and confused like a frightened animal. A deer. He used to call her Bambi, he remembered, perhaps for her doe-eyed beauty, perhaps for her clumsiness. It suited, either way.

"I... I don't know." she stammered, finally managing to utter a sentence through her chattering teeth. He pulled her dripping jacket away from her, and it landed in a heap on the linoleum, her lightly tanned forearms revealed in contrast to her blue jumper which clung tightly to her body. The rain had soaked through her jacket, saturating her jumper which was now dripping water all over the floor. He put an arm around her, his hand on her waist as he guided her fragile body into the kitchen, sitting her down on a chair and switching the kettle on before standing in front of her, holding her freezing, shaking hands. She was so vulnerable - he was probably one of the only people who'd ever seen her like that, he thought, because of how intensely private she was. People never realised that Nikki had these emotions.

"I'm so sorry." she mumbled, a sob wracking through her body as she looked at him, clutching his hands, her short nails digging into his skin as she clung to him.

"You need to get out of those clothes, you'll freeze to death." he told her, unclasping their hands and turning to the boiling kettle, taking two mugs out of the cupboard above his head. One of the mugs had been hers when she'd still lived here - a large _Eeyore_ mug which Eve now used for her tea. He'd always sworn that he'd never throw that mug away, because every time he saw it, warmth flooded back into his heart at the thought of the woman he'd been so desperately in love with. He didn't know whether he should tell her that now, because he was certain that she didn't love him any more. He wasn't even completely convinced that she'd loved him when she married him.

He poured the boiling water over the teabags in their respective mugs, the steam misting up the glass front of the cupboards above him, and he turned round, glancing at the floor awkwardly as he realised that Nikki was now stood there in nothing but her underwear, her short hair dripping cold rainwater onto her shivering shoulders and chest.

Somehow, he'd almost forgotten how beautiful she was. From her long, toned legs, her perfectly flat stomach with her pierced naval, and her lightly muscular shoulders. She was wearing a black lace underwear set, and her skin was still soaked from her wet clothes which lay at her feet now, her legs shaking in the perceived cold. His jumper was on the back of the chair; a large, cream, knitted affair which never failed to embarrass Eve whenever he wore it outside the house. He tried to give it to Nikki, but she just stood there, staring blankly at him as if she'd never seen a jumper before in her life.

He ended up having to dress her in the jumper like he would a small child, with her staring emptily at him with her fantastically beautiful eyes, framed by long, dark, curling eyelashes. She looked even more beautiful than in any photograph - even Eve had said that; that her mother was the most beautiful woman in the world. He wholeheartedly agreed - he'd definitely married the most beautiful woman in the world. The problem was that Nikki herself had never seen her own beauty. He knew what had happened between her, her siblings and her parents at the council house she'd left as soon as she could, and he knew the effect that had on her. It broke his heart to see those invisible scars all over her; in her beautiful eyes, in every haunted word she said, in every action she took.

She stood there in his jumper as he made the tea, and he felt her step closer to him nervously. It was like horse whispering, sometimes, being with Nikki - like the ancient method of join-up when the horse was chased and frightened away, before learning to trust the man who'd done so, and approaching him slowly from behind. He could feel her breath against his neck as he placed the half teaspoon of sugar into her tea, and he felt her shaking hand on his exposed forearm, where he'd rolled the cuff of his shirt up. He turned, taking in the sight before him of his cold, vulnerable wife wearing a jumper which just skimmed the top of her scarred thighs.

"Let's go and sit down." he said quietly, passing her the mug brimming with boiling hot tea, which she took after a pause, wrapping her long, spindly fingers around the china and glancing down into the steaming liquid with her big, hopeless eyes. She was still shivering like there was an earthquake raging through her body, and he worried that her legs would falter beneath her on the short walk to the living room and she'd collapse in a heap on the cold floor.

She stood there, bewildered, her feet glued to the floor as she looked up and stared into his eyes, her teeth chattering together. How long she'd been out in the storm, he didn't know, and perhaps he didn't want to - he just knew that he had to look after her, like a lost child or a frightened animal.

Yes, he thought to himself, his wife was, at times, a bit on the mad side. He supposed it came from her upbringing; from having to up and leave their home at midnight at least once a month; running away from strange men and gangsters chasing her parents. Not many girls had to see that. Nikki had always wanted Eve never to experience that; she'd told Stuart that he ought to protect her from that with his life. But despite this, he still didn't think that anybody could feel like he did about her.


End file.
